Hang In There
by kaiserklee
Summary: Anna has always liked to talk to Joan of Arc, and one day Elsa answers.


**a/n: **Prompt: Anna talks to Joan of Arc, and Joan (Elsa) replies. Just a quick oneshot, unbetaed, so any mistakes are entirely mine.

1/25/13 EDIT: Thanks, Jaslyn, for your suggestion!

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**Hang In There**

_- "I think some company is overdue, I've started talking to the pictures on the walls!" - _

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"Hang in there, Joan."

Of course, there was no response. No matter how cheekily she winked and how enthusiastically she pointed, there would never be a response. Anna let her hand fall as her cheer dissipated into the silence, even the remnants of her song echoing quieter and quieter as if to remind her just how very alone she really was. She opened her other eye and stared up at the painting.

"I really wish you would give me some encouragement," Anna mumbled. "After all the pep talks I've given you, I think I deserve one back."

Strong and silent, Joan was.

"It's probably because I never liked your story much before, huh?" Anna said. "I guess I would be upset too. It was Elsa who liked you more. Back then."

Whenever they had history lessons, Elsa had been the one to be excited about Joan of Arc. Anna would much rather run and play outside, get away from the stuffy textbooks and dry lessons, but Elsa would sit there and listen to the grouchy, spectacled old man who rambled too much. Elsa said something about admiring self-sacrifice and bravery, and probably more but Anna had been too busy scheming about how she could sneak chocolates to listen. Anna only liked Joan _now_. Because she reminded her of the old times, the times when Elsa was around, the times before Elsa locked herself away in her room.

"I just miss her," Anna whispered. "I really, really miss her."

She was starting to forget, Anna realized, and that scared her more than anything. She tried to draw something and slip it under Elsa's door yesterday, and she could draw herself just fine, and even Olaf, but when time came to draw Elsa – Anna barely knew how. Did Elsa really used to smile often, or did Anna only imagine that? Did Elsa really like the color blue, or did Anna only think she did?

Did Elsa really used to love her…?

"We used to be best buddies, and now…we're…not," Anna sang, her old, childish lyrics coming easily to memory; but much, much harder to vocalize. She sang biting past choked sobs wracking through her body as painfully as knives. "I wish…she would tell me…why…"

"Don't cry."

Anna flinched so badly she fell off the couch and sprawled onto the floor. She hurriedly wiped her tears away and whipped her head around looking for whoever had spoken, but the portrait room was as empty as it always was. Nobody around, except for her and the paintings. Slowly, Anna looked up.

"Was that you, Joan?" Anna gasped. She stood and clambered onto the sofa, her height only barely managing to reach the base of the painting, but she pressed her ear against it all the same.

Nothing but silence. Anna was so sick and tired of silence. To be met with it now, after the shock of a response at long last, infuriated even someone as mild-tempered as her. Feeling all the frustration building over the years finally spill over like something ugly taking over her senses, Anna slammed a small fist against the portrait.

"I know I heard something!" Anna yelled. "Joan, you better start talking again, _right now_;I'm a princess and you have to listen to me! Hey! I'm ordering you to talk again!"

Nothing. Of course there was nothing. Her rage came as quickly as it left, and Anna slid down the wall in defeat. Maybe she had just imagined it. Portraits didn't come to life and talk to people no matter how lonely they were, and she knew she was being stupid to think she was worthy of a miracle. If there were miracles out there, they were meant for other people.

"I just want someone to talk to," Anna muttered, hugging her knees to her chest. Her tears returned, crushed hope giving way to bitter disappointment, and she cried even harder than before.

"Don't cry. Please."

Through tear-clouded eyes, Anna once again looked up at the portrait of Joan. There it was again, the voice a second time. She looked down and shook her head. Stupid imagination never leaving her alone.

"Why shouldn't I cry?"

"Because I don't like seeing you cry."

Anna blinked through her tears. Was Joan really there? For the second time, she stood and whirled around to stare at the unmoving portrait, reluctant hope blooming in her chest so strongly she thought she might die if this was just another dud. It would be worse than having chocolate dangled in her face only to be snatched away, almost as bad as seeing Elsa for only a split second before she retreated into her room.

"Is that you, Joan?" Anna asked.

"…Y-Yes, I'm here."

Her lips curved into a wide smile. Anna had always imagined Joan's voice to be different, maybe a little deeper, and authoritative instead of stuttering and sounding afraid. It felt like she was talking to someone close to her own age rather than a hardened warrior. But maybe Joan was nervous. Maybe portraits didn't talk very often, and Joan was unused to it. But still, Joan of Arc was talking to her!

"I-I can't believe this!" Anna squealed, tears drying quickly. "W-Were you always here listening before when I talked to you? Why didn't you ever say anything? This is awesome, I have to tell, tell, umm, okay, I don't know anyone else to tell, but this is – I don't even know!"

"Are you really that happy?" Joan asked softly.

"Yes!" Anna nodded earnestly, not sure if Joan could see or how exactly talking portraits worked. "I'm so glad I could – I could – start crying again. Oh, I'm sorry, I know it must be really gross for someone as strong as you, I bet you never cried–"

"There's nothing wrong with crying," Joan said. "I-I've done it myself. Just…I don't like to see you cry. Don't cry again, all right?"

"_You _cried?" Anna gasped.

An awkward pause. Anna wondered if she had offended Joan somehow and made her leave, or just stop talking because a portrait couldn't really _leave_, after all, it was stuck there on the wall. Not like Elsa. Elsa could always leave, and she always did.

"Joan?" Anna said, standing on tip toe trying to gaze into the portrait's eyes. She only came up to about her shield so she did the best she could, pressing her chin against the metal – the canvas – and talking up. "Are you still there? I'm sorry about asking. Please don't go."

"I'm here," Joan answered, sounding puzzled. "Didn't you see? I just no–" And then Joan paused. Anna heard a sharp intake of breath. "Oh. Of course. You wouldn't be able to see…"

Anna plopped back down and rubbed at her sore jaw. "I wouldn't be able to see what?"

"Never mind," Joan said. "Yes, I've cried. But promise me, Anna, that you won't cry again. You have to be strong."

"Why?" Anna asked. "Elsa's the strong one. I'm just Anna."

"Elsa's not strong," Joan said quietly.

Anna scrambled to her feet and glared at the portrait, staring down – staring _up _– the impressive figure of a mounted Joan of Arc brandishing a sword, with the attitude of someone ready to charge into war. Give me liberty or give me death, Anna thought. "Hey! Don't you say that about my sister. I don't care if you're Joan of Arc, I won't take that from you, you big bully–"

Joan cleared her throat, voice almost shaking as she said, "No, Anna. Elsa's not strong at all. But you are. You can get through this. That's why she loves you."

Oh.

"How do you even know that?" Anna asked, deflating. "I don't even know that anymore. I don't think she cares about me anymore, Joan, I try and I try and I just can't get her to come out. I-I'm completely ordinary. What about me is worth her time, right?"

"…Everything."

"Huh?" Anna blinked at the raw edge in Joan's voice, something she was too young to understand but old enough to recognize. Joan sounded like her parents, sometimes, when they were talking about Elsa in hushed whispers and thought Anna couldn't hear. For the first time, Joan sounded old, weary.

"Just trust me that Elsa loves you, and she always will. So you have to be strong," Joan said. "For the both of you. If you're not happy, she won't be happy either."

"…But I'm _not _happy. I miss her."

"She misses you too. So much."

"I don't get it, Joan," Anna said desperately, clutching the sides of the portrait so tightly her hands trembled. Everyone said the same thing. When she asked, her parents would say that Elsa was only going through a phase, that Elsa loved her, but nothing, _nothing _pointed to that. "Is there something I don't know about? Won't you tell me, please? Why won't she just come out and talk to me again?"

"I can't tell you. I _can't _tell you, I can't, I can't, I can't." Anna heard Joan take a deep breath. Did portraits need air? "Just remember what I'm saying. Never doubt it, okay? Elsa…Elsa loves you."

Anna wanted to believe it.

And a part of her still did, no matter what had happened between them.

"…All right, I'll remember."

"And remember not to cry again. Someone like you isn't meant to cry. You have to smile."

Was Joan crying? Anna heard sniffling, and her eyes widened in alarm. "I promise, I promise," Anna said quickly, not wanting Joan to cry anymore. "As long as you talk to me more often."

"I can't," Joan said, and she cut off Anna's half-spoken protest with a firm, "I really can't, Anna, I just can't. Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

But there was no one else. Joan was all she had, and only for this brief, brief moment. Anna sighed and sat down heavily, hearing the stern resolution and recognizing that nothing she said would change anything. It was just like Elsa telling her to go away. She was used to it. "All right. Fine."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I get it."

"You _don't _get it," Joan insisted, sounding so urgent and so anguished that Anna couldn't _not _believe her, couldn't stay angry even if she wanted to. "I want to, I really do, I want to more than anything, I – I wish I could be there for you, Anna. And I'm sorry that I can't, but it's for the best. It's for your own good. It's for you. Please."

Neither of them said anything more as silence filled the hall. Anna wasn't sure what Joan was thinking. She wished she knew. All Anna could be sure of was that she herself was very confused, because she could tell Joan really did want to stay and talk to her. So what was keeping her? But she trusted Joan. For whatever reason, Anna knew Joan cared.

"Can you be here to listen, at least?" Anna asked at last.

"…Yes. I'm always listening," Joan said. "I've never missed a word you ever said to me, and I never will. Even if I don't say anything, I'm here."

Anna nodded and put her head against the portrait, closing her eyes. If she imagined hard enough she thought she might feel someone there with her, not just a picture but a real person. And maybe she was imagining too hard, Anna thought, because she thought she felt someone there who wasn't Joan.

As she drifted off to sleep, she thought she might have felt Elsa there with her.

"You have to smile for the both of us, or none of this is worth it," Joan said, and in a branching passage carved behind the portrait, Elsa leaned back and let the tears flow.


End file.
